Family Resemblance
by bisexualcharliedavis
Summary: "You men are all the same. You think you have to do everything alone, that no one would ever want to help you." (Future AU, Jean/Lucien, Jean's perspective, Jean and Charlie centric)


_/A/N: Ahhhhhh well. I bet y'all never saw the day I'd be writing fluff starring Mrs Jean Beazley but yet here we are. (Still not sure I've written Jean well enough. Jean connoisseurs feel free to tell me how I did) I feel like this fic is a little boring, like nothing really happens at times but I guess that's what fluff is, isn't it? Just cute stuff? Whatever. Here's a fic where Charlie has a kid! Yay! Enjoy and stuff. Leave a review if you liked it._

"Now you behave yourself, hm?" Charlie said, as he set the little girl down on the floor. She gave him a beaming smile, showing that most of her teeth had come through.

"I will." She said, wrapping her arms around his neck as he kneeled. Jean found herself, as she often did, seeking out the similarities between Charlie and his daughter. They both had blue eyes and a round jaw, but that was, at least as far as she could see, about it Pontaine Davis, as she was, had long red hair, slightly curly, pulled neatly into two braids, a small, pert nose, one green eye, and a light dusting of brown freckles along her nose and cheeks.

It was hard to imagine she had come from Charlie's genes, and she firmly suspects she takes after her mother, looks wise, at least. Personality, she had no idea. Pontaine, oblivious to the examination, had taken something wrapped in wax paper out of her bag.  
"Nana look!" She said, leaving Charlie at the door, thundering down the hall to the kitchen to show Jean whatever it was she had. While Charlie's fashion taste was dull at best, she is pleased to see he can at least do something with complimentary colours. Today, she was wearing a yellow turtle necked long sleeve shirt under a soft brown coloured pinafore dress Jean had made for her. Currently this was her favourite dress, and had suffered many washings, at both her and Charlie's hand, in an attempt to save it from stains.

"I'm looking!" She said, crouching down to Pontaine's level. She unwrapped the wax paper to reveal a cupcake with pink icing.

"It's for you." She said, proudly.

"Is it?" Jean asked, taking it from her tiny fists.  
"I iced it!" She said, very proudly. Jean grinned, and with her spare arm, lifted Pontaine up onto her hip. At age three, she was quite light, and Jean found she was still able to carry her. She worried about the day she couldn't sometimes.

"Did you? It's so good I thought Daddy must have done it." She said, putting it the cupcake down on the kitchen counter. The child was practically beaming with the praise, putting one of her arms around Jean's neck for added support.

Outside, she heard the door close, a sure sign of Charlie leaving for work. Lucien looked up from his cup of tea to beam at Pontaine, who beamed back. As she made grabby arms, Jean was forced to put her down so she could run over to Lucien.

"Granddad!" She said, as she put her hands on his knees and tried to tug herself up, before Lucien leaned down and lifted her himself. Once in his lap, Pontaine gave him a sweet kiss on his cheek, and then sat on his lap, reaching forward and taking a piece of toast off his plate, something that Jean found to be perfectly hilarious. Mock upset, Lucien sat back in his place.

"Well! You would think your father never fed you." He said, but didn't take it off her. It would be, Jean supposed, fair to say that they spoiled her. But then again, she also supposed that she liked spoiling her. She'd not had a daughter to dress up, so doing it with her grandchild felt like a blessing.

…

While Lucien saw his patients, Pontaine would usually find herself spending time with her Nana. Jean smiled as she folded another shirt, as Pontaine picked up some socks (not a matching pair) and attempted to mimic what she'd seen Jean do before.

With Pontaine seemingly occupied and nothing but menial work to do, she allowed her mind to drift. She remembered the first time she met Pontaine. Charlie was sitting right where she was now, holding the yellow (As it turned out, Charlie was mildly colour blind and no one had noticed up until then) blanket close to his chest. Charlie had vanished a few months ago, just gotten up and walked out on them, only too call, in six months time, on the verge of tears.

That was when they got the whole story. Charlie, a few months earlier, had had a night out on the town with his mates in Melbourne, only to end up in bed with a women, who fell pregnant. Charlie, unsure how to break the news, and he'd later confessed, scared of offending Jean, had left to go marry her. While Jean had never met Pontaine's mother, Charlie had given a brief description of her. Tall, red head, freckles, blue eyes.

Of course, as these relationships sometimes do, it had fallen apart, and she'd taken off, leaving Charlie alone with the baby. Charlie, being alone, broke (not unusual) and disowned by his own family had reached out a tentative hand to the doctor who had taken it, and pulled him back into the fold.

Pontaine, from the floor, had come over, and pulled one of Jean's pink shirts from the washing basket. She smiled down at the child, as she sat and again, attempted to fold it. However, because she was a child, she didn't have the motor skilled needed. It was quite adorable, actually. Pontaine, even when people were in the worst of moods, could always cox a small smile. Even Charlie, who was perpetually in a bad mood, smiled at her. Which is good, considering that he was her father.

"Nana?"  
"Yes Pontaine?"

"I done it." Pontaine held up the blouse for her to see. It was, folded, as such, but not really in the way that Jean would have folded it. She smiled, took the blouse, and put it on the pile.  
"Thank you very much, my dear." She smiled, before leaning down and welcoming Pontaine into her arms. Pontaine, as per usual, made her way into Jean's lap, her tiny feet barely reaching the end of her thighs, and began attempting to help her fold the laundry. But it wasn't long before she got bored, and scrambled away to go back to her crayons, which she had abandoned in favour of laundry.

"What are you drawing?" Jean asked, neatly folding in the sleeves on one of Lucien's cardigans.

"'lice car." Pontaine replied, reaching for a blue crayon.

"Daddies police car?" She nodded.

"MM Hm." Jean couldn't help but smile. Pontaine enjoyed the few times she'd been out in the police car with Charlie. She'd tried to make the same noise as the siren every day for a week. It drove Lucien slightly mad but she'd found it amusing. Raising two boys of her own (regardless of how they turned out) had hardened her against most annoying noises. Charlie had remained silent on the subject, except to make the noise back at her, which Pontaine found to be the best thing that had ever happened. That was when she had to put a stop to it. There were many things Jean Blake could take, but a grown man and a child making siren noises at the dinner table was not one of them.

…

Charlie gets home at six thirty on the dot every night. Tonight was no exception. Pontaine, Jean and Lucien were all eating dinner when Charlie let himself in. Despite living away, he'd never really lost that sense about him that he belonged here. She knew Lucien still had half a mind convince him to move back in but she didn't blame him for wanting his own space.

Upon hearing the door click, Pontaine sat up excitedly  
"Daddy's here." She informed Lucien very seriously. "No more biscuits." Jean laughed softly to herself, finding that amusing.

"What's this about biscuits?" Charlie asked, entering the kitchen, making his way to the chair and lifting his daughter up to his chest.

"Nothin'." Pontaine replied, innocently. Charlie faux narrowed his eyes at Lucien but didn't seem to actually be upset by the revelation that Lucien had been sneaking her biscuits.

"If you say so." He replied, kissing her forehead. Pontaine gave him a little kiss on the cheek and he set her back down to finish her dinner.

"Will you be joining us for dinner?" Jean asked, finding that she's smiling again, watching Charlie interact with Pontaine.

Honestly she hadn't even really meant to become a carer for Pontaine, but it simply happened that way. Mostly, she suspected, Lucien was to blame for that, he was the one who always insisted that he was Granddad, and really it felt natural to refer to herself that it was Nana. Amelia-Jean had always called her that, on the few occasions she saw her other granddaughter. She wondered what would happen, when Pontaine was older and realised that she wasn't actually Charlie's mother. She doesn't linger on the thought. She supposes that's a thought for the time.

"I can make a plate for you, if you like?" This is a usual routine. Charlie smiles but shakes his head no, dropping gracefully to sit in his usual place.

"Alright." She said, watching as Charlie pulled faces at Pontaine, who found it hilarious.

"Daddy!" She exclaimed, abandoning her dinner in favour of pulling faces back at him.

"If you pull faces and the wind changes, our face will get stuck like that." Lucien advised.

"Speaking from experience?" Charlie inquired, and received a playful swat on the arm for being cheeky. Settling back, Jean felt an unusual wave of contentment wash over her.

…

It was late on a Sunday afternoon. Charlie was sitting on the sofa, one hand pressed against his leg, the other playing with his wedding band. Lucien had taken Pontaine out for the afternoon to get ice cream, and while Charlie usually took her, he said he didn't mind. Sitting next to him, Jean got the feeling he minded very much.

"What's on your mind, then?"

"Nothing, Mrs B, but thanks." She didn't bother to correct him. Charlie used Jean, Mrs Beazley, Mrs Blake and Mrs B interchangibly depending on how he was feeling. It was a pretty good gauge of how he was doing. All and all, she'd found Charlie quite well adjusted at fatherhood. She suspected he'd had a lot more to do with raising his brothers then he'd ever let on.

"Is that why you're sitting here in the dark, then?"

"Am I?" Charlie took after Lucien in more ways then he realised, she mused. "Guess I am."

"Well?" She asked, "I'll keep it between you and me." Charlie looked at her for a moment, those intense blue eyes studying her. She supposed she could see how he ended up in this position, why girls had chosen him. He was beautiful. (But don't all mothers think that about their children?)

"Am I doing enough?"

"Enough?"  
"With Pontaine."

"How so?" He sighed and twisted his ring around four times.

"Am I here, enough?" He asked, "She spends all her time with you and Lucien, the only time she spends with me is at night and in the mornings. Even weekends, I'm starting to lose them as well." He sighed. She looked at him, and saw him for what he really was. A man who was terrified of losing his child.

"She loves you." Jean said, kindly. "She looks forward to you coming to get her everyday, and when she's going to school, she's going to understand that you're doing everything you can to give her a good life."

"Does she?" He asked, softly.

"She loves you." Charlie wiped at his eyes.

"I know." He said, softly. She wrapped an arm around him and tugged him close. "I don't know what I was thinking." Charlie murmured, "I don't know how to raise a daughter. What am I going to do when she starts school? High school?"  
"You men are all the same. You think you have to do everything alone, that no one would ever want to help you." She patted his arm. "In case you didn't know, Charlie. I've already been a young girl, and a teenager. I'm here to help you raise her. Not take her away." He nodded.

"I know that you didn't...You didn't much approve of my bringing her here, alone with no wife, and I now I haven't...That I'm not the best person when it comes to kids, but thank you. For all your help."

"You don't need to thank me, I look forward to it." She said, releasing him. "Pontaine is a joy. There's nothing wrong with needing help." She told him, swallowing slightly. "You've done an excellent job."  
"How do you always know the right thing to say?" He asked, softly.

"Practice." She smiled, sitting back. She looked down at his ring. "What about her, then? Do you think she's coming back?"  
"I don't know." He admitted, "I only knew her a very short time."

"Did you love her?"  
"No, there's only ever been one woman, that I ever loved, but I thought I might learn to. That we might learn to. For her."

"You tried to do the right thing, and sometimes things don't go the way that we'd like them to, but it'll be alright. God never does anything without a reason." He nods, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Thank you, Jean."

"You're quite welco-" Before she can finish, there is a rush of tiny feet in the hallway, running to the living room.

"Daddy!" A tiny voice screams, Charlie gets to his feet to pluck Pontaine off the ground and into his arms.

"Pontaine!"

"Granddad brought me ice cream." She giggled. "And I got to have two scoops!"  
"Two?" He asked, mock gasping. Jean smiled at Lucien, who was leaning on the door frame. Getting to her own feet, as Charlie spoke with Pontaine, she found her way to having one of Lucien's arms wrapped around her waist.

"Two scoops of ice cream, Doctor Blake?"

"I lost a battle of will, Mrs Blake." Lucien said, giving her a kiss on the lips.

"I hope you brought some for me." She said, after they broke apart. He smelt of aftershave and the stickiness that often accompanied young children.

"It's in the freezer." He smiled. It was evening, and usually she would be upset Lucien had stayed out so long, but she figured if Charlie wouldn't be too upset then neither would she. Lucien sometimes had no concept of time.

…

"Nana?"  
"Yes Pontaine?" It was early in the morning, and Lucien was off examining a body with Charlie, leaving Jean alone with Pontaine. This was no unusual, so she thought little of it. Honestly, she really didn't mind being a Nana for Pontaine. She felt lucky, actually. Heaven only know she didn't see her other grandchildren enough.

"Will you do my hair pretty?" She paused, and set her mixing bowl down. She was making biscuits, and she'd promised Pontaine she could ice them. Other then that, Pontaine was assisting by handing her the things she needed.  
"Pretty? Don't you like the way your father does it?"

"'s not pretty."

"I think it's pretty."  
"I don'." Jean raised an eyebrow at the child sitting on the kitchen table. Pontaine had very beautiful red hair that she can't recall ever having been cut before. It was, as always, fastened neatly into two identical braids. Typical Charlie, really.

"What do you think is pretty?" She asked, as Pontaine raised one sticky hand to point at Jean's own hair.

"Yours...Yours is pretty." Jean's hair was maintained weekly in a salon and she highly doubted Charlie would be impressed if she took Pontaine to get her hair done up like that. "And Rose...She has nice hair." Her whole life, Pontaine had never brought into the idea of calling people her aunt and uncle. She always called them by their name, except for her father, and for her and Lucien, of course. It was odd. But she had an odd father, and supposed she had inherited a few things from him, at least.

"Rose has hair like you." She smiled. Pontaine nodded.

"Red."

"Yes, red." Pontaine picked up one of the metal measuring spoons and began stacking the inside one another. "I want hair like Rose." Jean felt an idea spark in her brain. "Can you do that, Nana?" Jean picked up her mixing bowl again, and went back to stirring the would be batter with her wooden spoon.

"I think I can manage that."

…

"Alright, let me just...There. What do you think?" Jean had, about forty minutes ago, taken Pontaine for her first ever hair cut. Her long hair had been cut to just below her chin, in a blunt bob with a new fringe, quite similar to Rose.

"Adorable." The aforementioned Rose said, admiring Pontaine's new hair cut. Jean, who knew little about having short or bobbed hair, had called upon the Anderson woman to suggest a good hairdresser to her. Rose had insisted on coming along, though Jean suspected that it was more to see Charlie's face when he realised what had happened. Pontaine had asked if she could get it curled but she had a feeling Charlie would draw the line at his three year old having a perm so she said no. Pontaine, never being a child to have temper tantrums (She certainly didn't get that from her father.) had taken it in stride.

Rose leaned forward to adjust the pink headband (a casualty of Mattie's rather hurried packing when she left for Melbourne) matched quite nicely with today's get up. Today, thought Jean suspected Pontaine had picked it more then Charlie had, was a pink shirt with puffed sleeves Jean had made for her several weeks ago, paired with a creamy brown skirt and black Mary Jane's badly in need of a polish. She looked, and Jean would proudly say, as cute as a button. She had been wearing a smock when they were cooking, but Jean decided that if Charlie was going to be won over to this new hair cut, then he would have to experience the full effect. (And the smock was covered in white and pink icing, possibly something he would not want all over his uniform.)

Just then, the door clicked open, and was followed by Lucien's  
"I'm home!" Pontaine shot off like a rocket, as she usually did when someone came home, ready to show them all the things that she'd done during the day.

"Granddad!" She screamed, thundering down the hall. Jean supposed she should teach her that it's not ladylike to scream, but opts against it, for now at least. Let the girl enjoy herself. While Pontaine chattered happily to Lucien about haircuts and biscuits (and feeding him three of the 'best ones'), Jean reflected that she might have liked to have a daughter of her own.

While she was pregnant with Jack, she'd been sure it would be a girl. A little her, a little Christopher, a tiny complete family. One that still would have been missing a piece when he passed on. She still hasn't spoken to Jack in months. Last she heard from him was a card at Christmas. Christopher Jr was still in her life, though he and his family were living in Perth now, and she hasn't seen Amelia Jean in person for over a year. She hopes to see her one day soon, though. She did want to be in her grandchildren life. Blood or not. She once heard Charlie tell Rose (by accident, she wasn't trying to eaves drop) that he couldn't understand why Jack and Christopher wanted to be away from her. Moments like that made her consider her shortcomings as a mother. Shortcomings she refused to have as a grandmother.

Behind her, she felt a hand around her waist. Distantly, she could hear Rose drawing with Pontaine. She could smell aftershave and icing.

"Penny for your thoughts?"  
"My thoughts are worth more then a penny, Lucien." A dull, but accurate response.

"Fair enough." He said, and didn't push. "Pontaine's new haircut looks nice."

"I hope Charlie's likes it."

"He will. She looks like Rose." Jean scoffed and turned her face up to look at him.

"Do you ever wonder if you could have been a better parent?"  
"Often. I used to think about what might have happened if I'd done this, or that. Not lost her in that crowd, held her that little bit closer..." He sighs, leaving the thought unfinished. She knows he is talking about Li. He doesn't have any other daughters as far as she knows. "Do you?"

"I do. I must have done a miserable job, for my children to have turned out like they did." She's not crying yet, something she's proud of. She would never cry in front of Pontaine.

"I disagree."

"You hardly even know them."  
"Christopher seems like a fine young man, if a little tightly wound."

"Jack can't stand me."  
"Jack...Is complicated. Different It's probably best he stays away, Charlie would deck him for leaving you." The idea of Charlie punching Jack in the face is just absurd enough to rouse a slight smile onto her face.

"You are possibly right." She agreed.

"And even if we did have...Room to improve on our children, we can...Well. We won't make the same mistakes twice." She feels silly for asking Lucien about raising his daughter, suddenly. He talks about so often that she forgets he wasn't there when she was younger. Mei Lin had been wonderful at helping to fix that relationship. (one of the many Jean owes her)

Before she has a chance to reply, the front door opens, and is followed by a

"Hello?" Then, there is a thundering of both small and large footsteps. Pontaine, and then Rose, probably. She would hate for it to be anyone else. As she and Lucien turned the corner, she was greeted to a slightly horrified gasp from Charlie. Thankfully, Pontaine didn't notice, and clambered into his frozen arms.

"Daddy look! Nana made my hair pretty." She said, breaming that sweet smile that young children do. She's relieved when his face melts, apparently haven gotten over his shock.

"She certainly did!" He said, hoisting her up higher onto his hip. "Did Rose help you pick out a headband?" She nodded.  
"Pink matches my skirt!" She said, before pointing to the kitchen with one hand. "And there are biscuits for you." She said, before turning her attention to play with the buttons on his blazer. Rose gave him a smile that Jean cannot place as he passes, probably to eat one of the biscuits they made before lunch. It occurs to her that she hasn't even started thinking about dinner yet, either, she'd been too busy fussing with Rose and Pontaine.

She steps into the kitchen, as Charlie picks up a biscuit that Pontaine has given him the all clear to go ahead and eat.  
"Nice?" She questions, as Charlie licked the crumbs from his lips.  
"Nice." He said, as Pontaine wrestled the biscuit from his hands to try her own bite. Charlie allows her.

"We did a good job." Pontaine says, leaning up to put what was left of the biscuit in her father's mouth. Charlie opened his mouth and nodded in agreement. Rose was still smiling at him as she leant on the door frame.  
"Now," Jean said, picking up the tray and putting it by the stove before anyone could have any more biscuits and spoil their appetite. "I was thinking that tonight we could have fish and chips. What do you think of that, Charlie? Hope it doesn't interrupt any of your other plans?" She had not meant for that to sound as sarcastic as it did. Charlie threw a glance to Rose, who smiles at him. She knows that look well enough.

"I think that would be quite fun. Would care to join us, Rose?" Rose grins, positively beams.

"I would love to." Lucien puts an arm around her waist. Jean finds herself surrounded by four of the people she loves most in the world. And frankly: She couldn't be happier.


End file.
